Loco

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Note from the Publisher

Dedication

Trademarks Acknowledgement

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Cheyenne Meadows

Reviews

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Cover Artist: Lee Tiffin

Editor: Jason Bradley

Loco © 2012 Cheyenne Meadows

ISBN # 9781614955030

Attention Readers:
This book uses US English.

All rights reserved.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material, is a model.

PUBLISHER

https://spsilverpublishing.com

Note from the Publisher

Dear Reader,

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Publisher

Silver Publishing

http://www.spsilverpublishing.com

Dedication

To Tiffany who is the best friend a person could ask for. A wonderful critique partner, never ending cheerleader, and mentor. Bless you for all that you do.

To my parents who are my biggest fans, full of support, encouragement, and the first to sign up for copies of my books.

To E. Thanks for lending a shoulder, for giving great advice and direction, and for having such patience with my ignorance at times. You keep me on track. Thank you for everything that you do.

To Pitor and Paxa who have supported me from day one, cheered for me, and gave me some great ideas on my stories. I couldn't have done any of this without you.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Lassie
: Classic Media LLC

Marines
: US Marine Corps, US Department of the Navy

Navy Seal
: US Department of the Navy

Rambo
: Studiocanal

Styrofoam
: Dow Chemical Company

Wonder Woman
: DC Comics

The Y
: National Council of Young Men's Christian Associations of the United States of America

Chapter 1

Tanner dropped the heavy duffel bag on the living room floor and absently looked through the pile of mail he had picked up off the hardwood moments before. His job pulled him away for days or weeks at a time, allowing the mail to pile up. He would receive multiple late notices on bills if he didn't have everything arranged to be automatically paid through his checking account.

Finding nothing pressing or of interest, he tossed the handful of papers onto the dining table and headed into the kitchen. The fridge wouldn't contain much edible food left due to his absence, but if his luck held, there might be something to drink. Good thing he stopped by a fast food restaurant on the way home, or he would have a grumbling belly with no food in sight. A can of soda caught his eye. He quickly pulled the tab, took a deep swallow, and then stared at the nest of luxury living space laid out before him. From the high-end designer leather couch to the king-sized cushy bed tucked away in the sole bedroom, everything fulfilled his need for ease and comfort. He spent little money on anything else, having no real responsibilities but to care for his whims and wishes.

A few days per month found him at home, a half condo located in the suburbs of Center City. His position working for a private, highly secretive agency kept him on the move with little down time in between. Not that his boss pushed them relentlessly, not at all. The unending work correlated more to the world going to Hell in a handbasket on a daily basis rather than a single person's obsession for slave driving. A ring of the phone at any time of the day or night would send him scurrying from location to location, laboring to take out one nest of vipers after another. He lived for the adrenalin rush and putting his abilities to good use; his profession simply matched and reflected those interests. After all, he was a Wind Warrior, a member of a group of highly trained former military men who left regular duty, for one reason or another, and sought a meaningful place where they could use their exceptional skills for the greater good, wiping the worst of the worst off the face of the earth, all hush-hush, and in a highly confidential manner. He didn't need fame or public praise to do his job. Quite the opposite. He preferred to go in, complete his mission, come home in one piece, then celebrate with some hard earned rest and relaxation.

The ringing of the doorbell caught his attention. Instantly on alert, he stalked quietly to the front door, peeking out the tiny hole before releasing his pent-up breath. In his business, being overly cautious could just save a life.

A young woman with long brunette hair stood outside his door with a full basket clutched in her hands.

Clicking the locks, Tanner pulled the door open and looked down at her. "Can I help you?"

She glanced up, a bright smile covering her face and extending to her bright green eyes. "Hi. I'm Oakley. I'm your other half."

He stared dumbfounded at her for a couple of beats before his tired brain made the connection. "You live next door?"

She quickly nodded, her long hair swaying with the movement. "I moved in a couple of weeks ago and have been waiting to meet you. This is for you."

She extended the basket toward him, exposing her toned, muscular arms. He automatically took the gift, allowing his gaze to flow over her body from head to toe. Not only were her arms ripped for a woman, but her whole body shouted athlete. She stood a head shorter than him, compact, but with power, if her conditioning told the truth. Loose black shorts matched a dark colored T-shirt advertising a local 5K run from a year ago. One glance at her legs made his gut clench. They weren't long and lean like a runway model, but powerful and sculpted like a woman familiar with running shoes.

"It's pound cake. I made the strawberry glaze myself. A lot less sugar than icing, but just as tasty with some extra vitamin C from the berries." She gestured toward the flat lump in the bottom of the basket. "You might want to keep it in the fridge, though."

He locked onto those sparkling green eyes. "I thought welcome to the neighborhood gifts were given by the old inhabitants to the new ones?"

She shrugged. "You haven't been around. Besides, I like to bake."

"You're feeding me two-week-old cake?"

"Nope. My luck you'd get food poisoning and kick the bucket. Then some frat boys with an obsession for rap and acid rock music at all hours would move into your place. No thanks. I'll keep tall, dark, and quiet, just the same."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "I see." He shifted the package to one arm, holding out his hand. "I'm Tanner." She shook with a tight grip, something he liked in a woman. The limp fish handshake most of them did turned him off. He much preferred strong, independent ladies to the weaker, clingy ones.

"It's nice to finally meet you. Just get back from vacation?" Her attention focused behind him.

"Work." He watched and waited for her response, hoping she wasn't one of those nosy women that nagged to know each and every detail in a man's life and would pout if they didn't get it.

"Oh, I see." Her eyes returned to his face. "Well, I'm glad you're back."

"You run?" He pointed to her shirt.

She glanced down, as if just recalling what she actually wore. "Yeah, I run 5Ks. I'm not the fastest runner and never win, but I like doing it. Besides, the entry fee money goes to a charitable cause."

From the looks of that body, she ran a lot. But her upper body strength said running wasn't her only form of exercise. Probably one of those health food fanatics too.

Nothing wrong with being active. In his profession, he had no choice but to stay fit and in top condition. Slow men caught bullets. Weak men couldn't stand up to the terrain. Wimpy men simply wouldn't do the job or pass basic training in the first place.

Oakley shifted her weight from one foot to another. "Well, I'd better get going. Hercules will be upset if I'm late."

"Hercules?" His eyebrow shot up at the name.

A genuine smile covered her face, showing her pride in the animal. "My dog."

"Oh." Just what he needed, a small, yappy, fuzzball next door to wake him with constant barking. Not that he disliked dogs, actually much the opposite. However, his present career left no time for a pet, especially one as needy as a canine. In the meantime, he didn't want his downtime disturbed by someone else's pampered ragamuffin.

"Gotta get going. Welcome home." She trotted back to her side of the condo with a quick smile and wave.

He watched her go, noticing the sway of hips with each step, the nice shape to her lithe, firm body, the tight ass. A playboy model she might not be with her small, modest breasts, but he certainly appreciated everything he saw in her package. Energetic, toned, with just enough meat to fill a man's hands and mouth.

He quickly clamped down on those thoughts. Home for less than an hour and he already lusted after the first female he ran into. She was off-limits for several reasons. First of all, she would still be his neighbor no matter what happened between them. Thus, when things turned sour, they would still be in close proximity. Too close. If he read her right, and he was rarely wrong, she leaned toward innocence on the spectrum rather than a highly experienced courtesan. Still, looks could be deceiving. Which meant he could be witness to her nightly activities with different men through the thin walls of the condo. He scowled at that thought. Or, if his former idea proved correct, it meant she would want a relationship. Commitment. Marriage. The words sent shudders down his spine. Sure, he had his share of women and a colorful reputation as a playboy, enjoyed being with beauties any chance he stumbled across but not one of them made him want to commit for life. No. He liked being a bachelor and had no intentions of settling down with one woman. Ever.

Oakley emerged from her front door, leash in hand, a huge black-and-white spotted dog on the other end. That had to be the largest canine he had ever seen in his life, more the size of a pony than a dog. The gigantic beast's head reached the level of her abdomen and he easily outweighed her. For all his size, he seemed happy and gentle with his owner, licking her hand and jogging calmly beside her as they headed off down the sidewalk.

He shook his head, closed the door, and returned to the kitchen in order to place the cake on the table. Not for the first time did he miss the little old lady that used to rent the other half of his condo. She cooked for him when he returned home, reminding him of his beloved Grandma Dee who passed away when he was just a kid. Her gentle ways and chiding nature made him smile through the worst days. Her daughter came to pick her up one day when the old woman could no longer care for herself. Truth be told, he missed her and her old-fashioned, grandmotherly ways more than he cared to admit. She had been a stable force in his life that always knew just the right thing to do or say, putting his world in proper perspective with her wisdom and quick wit.

Now he was stuck with Wonder Woman and her giant dog.

He pulled a fork from the drawer and cut off a generous bite of cake. He swallowed the first bite, savoring the texture and delicately sweet taste. She could cook; he would give her that. Now, if only she would leave him be and the horse she called a dog would remain quiet. Yeah, and if pigs would fly too.